Brian Thompson: Lots of people make kahlua

Editor’s note: Seeing as how Brian Thompson overdosed on pecan pie and gravy this Christmas (yes ... he puts one on top of the other), he sent in this old column from 2008. Remarkably, it helped win a Florida Press Club Award for commentary in 2009.

“What are you making?” my wife asked as she walked into the kitchen one morning earlier this week. Her nose was twitching and her eyes were squinted like she was looking straight into the sun.

I had taken the week off to attend to odd jobs around the house and general pre-Christmas festivities with my daughter. This little morning project in the kitchen was one of those odd jobs — part of a Christmas present idea I had for the crew in my office. Why buy them something meaningless when I could offer them a gift from the heart that I had labored over — a sign of thanks for all they do. And if it didn’t kill them, all-the-better.

On the stove was what could only be described as a simmering pot of crude oil that gave off a strong aroma not quite recognizable. Assorted bowls, containers and spoons lay around the cutting board.

This was the scene that my wife was trying to make sense of that morning. By the look on her face I figured it best to just avoid her question altogether and go about my stirring. Exercising the Fifth Amendment is one of my favorite Christmas traditions.

“Kahlua?!?” she finally said to break the silence. “You’re running a distillery and it’s not even 8 a.m.?”

Well, it’s not like it’s illegal. And even if it were, would the time of day really matter?

But lots of people make kahlua. I know: I found dozens and dozens of recipes for it on the Internet. I had originally gotten the idea from my barber who told me her husband makes it every year. It sounded intriguing and I got hooked on the idea after she fed me a brownie that included her husband’s special concoction. It was magical! I just had to give it a shot myself.

If you’re not sure what kahlua is, it’s a coffee-flavored liqueur and not all that difficult to make. Basically it involves a 50-gallon drum of cheap vodka, some roofing tar, a truckload of sugar, coffee, vanilla, water, and a hazardous material suit. It’s best if you make it outside in a big cast-iron cauldron and stir it with a 2X4, but I didn’t have that kind of time or equipment. So I went with the kitchen at 8 a.m. and watched as the paint on the ceiling peeled off above me.

I must admit, it did smell a bit like a hooch lab inhabited by caffeine junkies. Caramelized sugar burned on the stove and the alcohol fumes pierced the air.

“Daddy, what are you making?” might daughter asked upon entering the kitchen.

“Oh, um, you know … stuff,” I answered coyly.

“Pancakes?” she inquired next.

“No, definitely not pancakes.”

“Can I help?”

“Oh, heavens no,” I told her. “I’d love it if you could, but that violates at least five federal statutes and an international treaty. Also, make sure you don’t light any matches as this place could go up like a Roman candle.”

Tasting it was both exciting and unnerving. There’s something not quite right about vodka at 8 a.m., at least not if you’re long out of college and wanting to preserve your marriage. But you have to taste your creation, no matter what the hour. And it wasn’t bad, although it did make my eardrums pop and cleared out my sinuses like I had just bit down on a chili pepper. And that was just a teaspoon-full.

“That is some witches brew,” my wife remarked as she watched the wooden spoon dissolve as I stirred. “You think people are going to willingly drink that?”

Kahlua, I needed to remind her as I started opening up doors and windows, is a very popular and refined drink, not to mention quite enjoyable.

“As long as they have stainless steel-lined cups and protective gloves and goggles, I think people are going to love it,” I told her.

And it will be a memorable gift. I plan on calling it, “Brian Thompson’s Homemade Kahlua Hooch,” and I’ve already come up with the perfect tagline: “It’ll grow hair on your tongue and burn a hole in your shoes.”